Roman runs excitedly inside while Reid rolls his neck and shoves his hands in his jean pockets. His muscles stretch the white shirt he’s wearing and even with everything going on, I can’t help wanting to reach out and touch him.
“I called a friend about a week ago. Name’s Mack. He’s a big time lawyer and I had him look into all this shit my brother was trying to pull. He told me district bylaws or some shit mean my brother had to submit a detailed plan for the little shopping mecca he wanted to build. Took us a few days to realize, but turns out my little garage is on a key piece of land. See, he was only able to go after a few businesses and homes that were on a specific type of lot. The center of town was basically free for the picking, but there’s a ring of residential homes surrounding the entire town that he couldn’t touch.
“His plan was to wait for the contract to fall through on my place so he could use my land to build a big enough road into town to support all the infrastructure he wanted to put up. So I used an obscure legal loophole to sell my property directly to the town. My grandfather’s will wouldn’t let me sell it until it passed into my name, but I was able to sell the estate to the town as a historical landmark. That puts it out of the hands of the mayor for at least two years. Apparently the city inspector has to fit it into their schedule to come appraise the property and determine a value. In other words, screw my brother, because he’s not getting his hands on this town.”
I shake my head. “No. You have to tell them you changed your mind. You can’t just sell your garage and your house because of me. You love that garage.”
“I do,” he says, nodding. “And I love you, too.”
Tears fill my eyes. “Reid. Please. I can’t let you do this for me. It’s too much.”
“Tell you what,” he says. “Roman and I will call it even if you just agree to make this whole engagement for real. What do you say?” he asks, getting on one knee. “Sandra Williams, will you make me the luckiest man in town?”
He holds out what looks like a handmade ring complete with a small diamond. I cover my mouth with my hand, letting the tears fall freely now. “I do-I mean, yes! God. Yes!” I say, laughing and letting him slide the ring on before squeezing him in a tight hug. “Please tell me you didn’t sell your house and garage just to prove this wasn’t about your grandfather’s will,” I say.
“Okay. It wasn’t just to prove that. It was also to make sure my fiancée gets to keep her bakery.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe you did that for me. It’s the sweetest and stupidest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“What about Roman? Where are you going to live?”
“Well, seeing as Mark decided to back out of the construction, I don’t need to use the money from selling my house to pay the fee on your bakery. So we’re just going to get a place in town. I think Marley was planning to sell soon. I bet we could talk her into some kind of deal. We’ll be staying at the bed and breakfast your parents rented out until then. They paid for it until next month and we’ll have the whole place to ourselves. It’s going to be great. Oh, and I guess being my fiancée and all, you can come visit if you want. Just don’t overstay your welcome.”
Epilogue
Six months later
Sandra
Reid, Roman, and my father are all outside the bed and breakfast throwing horse shoes. I sit on the porch, hands pressed gently to the tight curve of my belly where our baby is growing. Our baby. My fiancé’s baby. It all still feels surreal. Reid is wearing jeans and a simple gray t-shirt, but he makes it look like a million dollars. I bite my lip as I watch his biceps flex and strain as he picks up Roman, spinning him around while they both laugh. Even my father is laughing. That is something I still can’t get used to. My parents came down a week ago to help us get ready for the wedding
The wedding… Just thinking about it makes me want to laugh. Shopping for a wedding dress while my belly is growing by the day has been stressful, to say the least. I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit looking at pictures of women’s pregnant bellies at various stages to try to predict how much extra room I need to plan for in my dress. Either way, it’s a good problem to have. I’ll happily sacrifice my figure for the little baby growing inside me.
“You’re positively glowing, sweetheart,” says my mother. She sets down a glass of lemonade beside me on the porch and takes a seat.
I’m still not used to this from her. Part of me wonders if it’s all an act, if my parents being here is all just some elaborate prank to try to get me to let my guard down. Maybe they’re going to kidnap me and drag me to some ivy-encrusted tower where they’ll lock me away until they find an appropriately nauseating man to marry me off to. Instead of the normal bitterness and panic a thought like that would bring, I just find myself smiling at the silliness of it.
A weight I never knew I carried is gone. I don’t know when it happened, and I don’t know how, but I can feel the absence. It’s like my thoughts aren’t as heavy anymore. They don’t have the power to hurt me like they once could. All I have to do is look at Reid, Roman, or feel the growing life inside me to know that nothing else really matters. Even if Mark comes back in two years and tries to take another shot at tearing down my bakery and everything else. I’ve finally started to feel enough of an identity outside the bakery that I could live with it. I could survive and go on and be happy even if it was taken from me.
“Mom,” I say, feeling slightly odd not calling her ‘mother’. But calling her mother and calling my dad father was a subtle way of emotionally distancing myself from them. It was my way of saying they were still at arm’s length. Now I don’t feel like I need that anymore. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, dear.”
“What changed? Between us? I’m not complaining, I just don’t think I really get it yet.”
She folds her fingers in her lap and rocks back in the chair, looking out over the lawn and at the boys playing horseshoes. “I’d like to say your father and I realized we had made a mistake and wanted to start fixing it. I’d like to say something like that. The truth is that man of yours happened. He showed you to us like we’ve never seen you. Just hearing how he sees you was enough for us to know it’s true.” She reaches across to squeeze my hand. “Darling, I know this isn’t noble of me, but I can’t apologize for the way your father and I raised you. We raised you the way we knew how, and we did our best to instill the same values we hold in you. You just, well, you were made from a different mold. I’m only sorry we didn’t realize it sooner.”